Winterfell Solstice
by Moon Lantern
Summary: "He was no longer the Lord Commander of the Night Watch as he ran at the girl... He was that sixteen year old boy again who had left Winterfell and its people to join the Night's Watch. 'Bring her home Mance… you owe me this one little girl'." Jon is driving Gared, Alys and Shireen back to Winterfell for Christmas for a reunion he will never forget. Ratings and pairings inside.
1. Chapter 1

Winterfell Solstice

* * *

 _ **He was no longer the Lord Commander of the Night Watch as he ran at the girl, before anyone else could react. He was that sixteen year old boy again who had left Winterfell and its people to join the Night's Watch, as he lifted Arya into a hug, and she was once again that ten year old who had said goodbye to him after he had given her Needle.**_

 **Author's Note: Hello all! Firstly I know I'm a month late and even then this one shot will at least be two chapters. On the other hand, if you're still in the Christmas/New Year spirit or want to see a Stark reunion, here's to you! This is a fluffier take on Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire in an Alternative Universe in Modern Day.**

 **So, Jon is driving Gared, Alys and Shireen back from the Wall to Winterfell for Christmas for a reunion he will never forget. Home is full of surprises- everyone's alive and ready to groove!**

 **Rated T for mentions of abuse. death and violence. Let me know what you think. There's a tribute here to Madiella if she's reading this; if any of you have time feel free to check out some of her fics. She specialises in Modern Day Shakespeare fics, although I think her best fic is RA- sort of a historical and supernatural mystery about the Richard III and the Princes in the Tower. :)**

 **Pairings: Jon/Shireen (implied), Eddard/Catelyn, Robb/Jeyne Westerling, Rodrik/Elaena, Bran/Meera (implied).**

 **Any guesses on how a certain character is able to drive? ;)**

* * *

CHAPTER 1

"Hey, this is your song!" Alys laughed. "Gared, turn it up!" Gared gave an awkward bemused look and turned up the radio on Jon's car.

"Oh dear Lord," Shireen, who was sat next to Alys in the back seat, whispered, going red in the face, recalling the terror at that she was running from at Castle Black. She had got up one morning and put on the radio, while brushing her teeth, she had decided to mime a dance to Slade's Merry Christmas Everybody, before realising that Sergeant Edd Tollett had seen her and decided to quietly show the whole garrison the dance. It was the sort of awkward dance you do when you are sure nobody can see you, the sort of dance that involves jumping and skipping to the side and overdramatic arm swinging and jazz hands. Shireen had accompanied her dad on business, mainly to write a dissertation for her History and Politics course. She did not expect to be so humiliated and remembered as the girl who danced like a prat in front of the whole of the Night's Watch Regiment. This was one of the reasons why she had insisted on not traveling with her dad, because she felt too embarrassed to look him in the eye.

" _Are you hanging up the stocking on the wall? It's that time when every Santa has a ball!"_ the radio sang.

"Be quiet, Alys!" Jon snapped. "I need to focus on the road."

"Jon, it's a clear road, there's nothing!" Gared grinned.

"There could be black ice," Jon said quickly. "Quiet, I need to concentrate and get you lot home safely."

"What he means is not to be mean to his girlfriend!" Alys blurted.

"She's not my girlfriend!" Jon snapped.

"He's….. not my boyfriend," Shireen said sternly, feeling queasy all of a sudden. Back at Castle Black, despite being only 22 years old, he had been elected Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, akin to a Captain of the Regiment. When he had found out what was happening, he had used the same voice he had used to discipline Sergeant Janos Slynt a few months ago for disobeying a direct order. That voice demanded that everyone stop filming on their camera phones and hand them in for checking to see if all videos had been deleted. Shireen couldn't help but admit that that low voice really touched her heart and gave her butterflies. She had a few times knocked on the Lord Commander's door and asked him a hundred annoying questions and given answers to half of them, until after a few times she was told by her mum to not burden the Lord Commander to his duties.

"Alys, go easy on the wine tonight," Jon deflected with a grin. "We don't want any more fire tricks, Lady Catelyn does not like surprises, so let's not get remembered for the wrong reasons."

" _Ew, I'm Lord Snow and I'm a smart-panty badass!"_ Alys mimicked, which made everyone laugh.

"It's good to see you laugh every now and then, Jon," Gared admitted.

"Shall we check on Sansa?" Shireen said suddenly.

Jon grunted a nod. "Have you got her number?"

"No, but she's with Mira," Gared said, taking out his phone and dialing Mira. The ring sounded for a few seconds before it was answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Mira, it's me Gared!"

"Hi, Gared, we've just passed Moat Cailin," Mira answered.

"Gared, put us on loud speaker," Jon ordered as if he was still on duty. "Hello, Mira, this is Lord Commander Jon Snow of the Night's Watch; is Sansa Stark with you?"

"I'm here, Jon, no need for such formality!" Sansa scoffed.

"Typical teenager," Alys whispered to Gared and Shireen who giggled.

"Who's we?" Jon demanded.

"My friends," Sansa replied.

"What are their names?" Jon probed.

"There's Mira, and some others."

"Who are the others?"

"Relax, Lord Snow!" the voice of Tyrion Lannister exclaimed. "It's just me and Podrick with them!"

"Tyrion!" Jon beamed suddenly.

"How are you, my friend?" Tyrion asked. "I hear someone was made Lord Commander, I'm genuinely proud of you, I knew you had it in you, you know."

"Thank you, Lord Lannister," Jon mumbled.

"Stop being so formal and uptight, you're not on duty!" Tyrion scolded lightheartedly. "It's Christmas, put the black cloak away for a few days. Put your windows down, smell the country air!"

"Yeah and freeze to death!" Gared remarked.

"So, who's actually doing the driving?" Alys asked devilishly, glancing at Shireen and winking.

 _It's got to be Podrick, or Mira if she's learned to drive._

"Pod drove until the Green Fork, now it's me," Tyrion said holding back laughter.

"You're kidding me!" Gared jumped up in his seat and would have probably hit the roof of Jon's Micra if the seatbelt wasn't restraining him. "You're telling me some drunk guy passed Tyrion Lannister and gave him a driving licence? Some guy allowed Tyrion to drive on our roads and drive a car with other….. people inside?"

Shireen could see Alys in silent hysterics at Gared's surprise, the giggling of Sansa and Mira could be heard over the loudspeaker, which was eventually followed by another man's laughter.

"Actually it was a girl, Maddy her name was," Tyrion retorted. _"Call me Madd_ , she said. Some people think she must have been passing me."

"Are you serious?" Shireen grinned, her eyes caught Jon's in the main mirror of the car, who for a moment looked right back at her. She beamed even more seeing that twinkle in his dark grey eyes, where Lord Commander Snow had hung up his cloak and it was just Jon smiling at her. He quickly looked back towards the road.

"Yeah, Tyrion drove me and my uncle Benjen into Castle Black on my first day there, I thought I would have a heart attack," Jon shared.

"But… how?" Gared asked excitedly, making strange gestures with his hands.

"I'm sat on Podrick's lap," Tyrion said almost seriously. An awkward pause followed, then another round of laughter from both cars, as Podrick protested: "M'lord!"

"Oh, Gared Tuttle, I promise I will show you how it's done when we get to Winterfell," Tyrion promised. "Now, you make sure you and your passengers get home safely, and I'll do the same, Jon."

"All right, Tyrion, see you there," Jon responded happily, yet calmly.

"Bye guys!" Mira, Gared, Sansa and Alys said.

"Bye," Shireen said softly. "You're full of surprises, Jon Snow!" she smiled after they had hung up.

"Well, he came with us to Castle Black when I first started," Jon reminisced, he stopped to think his next words. "He gave me encouragement in a way I didn't think possible."

"Sounds like an awesome friend, Snow," Alys said, unusually quiet. "Seriously, thanks for inviting me to along to your folks, are you sure they won't mind?"

"They'll be fine, trust me," Jon assured. "Look at that rookery in the distance!" They all edged forwards in their seat and consumed the scenery. There was a huge clock tower in the distance, next to a grey-blue dome, with a turret pointing into the northern hemisphere. Dancing in the cold wind was a banner of a grey wolf on white snow. The stars sang and glowed in the night sky, almost like a choir welcoming the travellers.

Jon turned down the volume of the radio, so the car was in absolute silence as they took in the manor of Winterfell.

"Welcome home," Shireen said to Jon, who gave a brief nod.

Ahead another car also pulled up opposite Jon and beeped the horn; the driver was man with a small brown beard and long hair to his neck, but the person who caught Jon's eye was the auburn haired man in the passenger seat.

The two cars pulled in through the gate of Winterfell Manor and were greeted by an old man with white whiskers, a huge grin shot across his face when he saw the cars and the drivers.

"Rodrik!" Gared said, jumping out of the car, to the confusion of the older man. The younger bearded man, however, dived out to hug Gared.

"Glad to see you again, mate!" Rodrik Forrester said. "Who are your friends?"

"This is Lord Commander Jon Snow, Alys Karstark and Shireen Baratheon," Gared introduced.

"Hello Stark," Jon teased, before hugging Robb and then greeting Ser Rodrik Cassel. The giddines inside Jon urged him to remark that Rodrik Cassel had put on weight, but he relented for the sake of his dignity and body- the man before him was a retired tae kwondo champion.

"Evening to you, Snow- Lord Commander Snow, I mean, congratulations!" Robb commented. "Alys, nice to see you again; nice to meet you two!" the auburn head said to Gared and Shireen.

"Gared!" a light brown haired girl around Shireen's age jumped from the back of Rodrik's five seater. "I've missed you!"

"I've missed you too, Talia!" Gared exclaimed, pulling her into a hug. "I've kept the necklace you gave me on the day I left." He pulled out a small but intricately carved tree on a piece of wood, that was tied to a string. "Kept it for good fortune, it's got me back safe."

"This is my sister, Talia," Rodrik explained. "My wife, Elaena," he motioned to a tall dark haired woman, who waived at them all.

"Elaena, you've grown since last time we met!" Gared said.

"I know, it seems like a life time ago, when we were kids playing hide and seek into the hours of the evening in the Grove. Do you still sing, Gared? Because I hear you're doing a duet with Talia tonight?"

Gared's face turned pale. "I am?" He gave a nervous laugh before shooting Talia a confused look.

"Don't worry, it will be fine!" Talia assured. "It's one you've done many times."

"Yes, but that was before I was a brother of the Night's-"

"It's OK, Lord Commander's giving you permission to let your hair down," Jon smirked.

"Can I punch you, if we're off duty, is that allowed?" Gared joked.

"Leave him alone or you will taste my fury!" Shireen half jested, placing a hand on her hips and her knuckle on Gared's shoulder, prompting everyone to laugh.

"And last but not least, Jeyne, my wife," Robb introduced.

"Call me, Jenna," a chestnut haired girl said, climbing from the car. "Robb has told me a lot about you, Jon, I can tell he's not the only one who thinks you're wonderful."

Jon felt his ears turn red and he was reduced to stupidly nodding.

He was saved from further embarrassment when another car pulled into the manor, that was booming loud music.

Tyrion Lannister was seated in the front seat, Jon saw Gared trying to discretely peer in and see how he was driving. The dwarf parked his car, the doors opened for Sansa and a dark haired girl sat next to her, who Jon worked out was Mira Forrester. Next to Tytion sat a stocky guy with dark hair, who was introduced as Podrick Payne.

"Jon?" a voice called into the night, it was a fairly quiet voice but Jon heard it loud and clear. The Lord Commander turned around to locate the source and even though he knew who it belonged to, his heart stopped in his chest. She was taller and older than he had last seen her all those years ago, but her brown hair was plaited in that exact same hairstyle on that innocent and cheeky face, as those grey eyes started to water and look at him.

"Arya…." he said before losing all decorum. He was no longer the Lord Commander of the Night Watch as he ran at the girl, before anyone else could react. He was that sixteen year old boy again who had left Winterfell and its people to join the Night's Watch, as he lifted Arya into a hug, and she was once again that ten year old who had said goodbye to him after he had given her Needle. She was still as petite as Jon remembered as she sobbed into his shoulder. He realised that he too was crying, that's right the Lord Commander was weeping because of a sixteen year old girl. In that moment, part of him wished he had never left Winterfell, never left his family, his friends, his brothers and sisters, especially the one he was hugging right now.

" _Bring her home Mance… you owe me this one little girl,"_ a voice echoed in his head.

He pulled back and wiped his eyes. _But she's no longer a little girl, not anymore_.

A childlike urge crept through him; he muzzed her hair, despite the intricate long plait that it was tied in and kissed her forehead. "Hey there, little sister, did you miss me?"

"Shut up!" Arya said tearfully, punching him lightly on the shoulder, before hugging him again.

"Woah, nepotism!" Robb complained, with his arms outstretched.

"Fine, you shut up, as well!" Arya laughed, punching him too. "Stark group hug!" she called, as the four of them huddled together under the cold night sky, although Sansa was a little hesitant.

"This is definitely going on YouTube," Alys said, ending her filming on her smartphone. "Don't you agree?" she winked at Shireen.

"Leave them alone," she said.

"I'm not saying there's anything wrong with it, there's no love like Stark love!" Alys replied giddily.

"Jon, guess what?" Arya beamed excitedly.

"What?"

"You know the North Consty?"

"Constabulary," Sansa corrected.

"Yeah?"

"Whatever," Arya scoffed. "They're letting me shadow them over the summer!"

"That's amazing!" Jon said, filled with pride and a little sadness that she was growing up so fast. Last time he saw her, she was reaching his chest and now his little sister was going to be a copper and he couldn't see her doing anything else.

"I hate to be the one to cut short the reunion, but your parents are inside and would like to see you as soon as possible, please," Rodrik Cassel said, clearing his throat.

"There's one more car arriving, they should be here by now," Shireen said worriedly.

"I'm sure they'll arrive soon enough and I'll direct them," the warden assured. "Now, inside all of you!"

They all journeyed into the Great Hall, and were greeted by a hearth that beconed them, their footsteps echoed on the wooden floor, as if it understood the melody of weary travellers. There were paintings and decorations on the top of the walls, a few sofas lounged near the fireplace and a huge dining table was laid out for them.

"So, you managed to find your way back, then?" a deep yet warm voice called. The man wore a dark green jumper, shirt and tie and had his shoulder length brown hair tied back in a ponytail. He had a quiet yet inspiring aura about him, though you couldn't at first work out why it was, maybe it was the twinkle in his grey eyes that spoke much louder than his rogue facial hair or mop on his head.

"Hello, Dad," Robb said, as Eddard Stark pulled him, Sansa and Jon into a hug.

"It feels….. good to see you," Jon croaked, he couldn't work out why he was welling up, he was a grown man, not a child coming back from nursery school. "How are you?"

"Never better," Ned Stark answered. "I know it goes without saying, but I, no we are very proud of what you've been doing, all of you; Arya stayed up the whole night waiting for you…. Sansa, love, what's wrong?"

Out in the courtyard Sansa had been almost embarrassed at their group hug, but was now blubbering into her dad's arms. "I'm… sorry… I am so so sorry…..."

"Whatever for lass?" Ned asked, touching her cheek and wiping her tears.

"I….. don't know…. For leaving?"

"It's all right, today is not day for holding grudges or hatred, today is a day for all of us, OK?" Ned assured, before stepping back and smiling at everyone else after Sansa had pulled herself together.

"You must be… Shireen, I hear you're a history and politics student?" he asked, surprising the Baratheon girl. He then went around indicating at the various guests. "Gared Tuttle of Ironrath- tell your uncle he shoots the bow very well; Rodrik Forrester, I hope Robb isn't working you too hard in the Riverlands; Alys, welcome back, is your family not coming?"

Alys shook her head slowly with an unusual reservation.

"Well, you are more than welcome to join our table, Alys," he promised.

"Thank you, Lord Stark," she whispered.

"Call me, Ned, or Uncle Ned, as you once did," the Stark grinned, causing the girl to blush. He decided to move on before causing any more embarrassment. "You must be Mira Forrester, Elaena Glenmore…..." he struggled at the youngest of the Forrester sisters.

"Talia," she offered.

"Ah, Talia Forrester, pleased to meet you at last! Of course, we have Tyrion Lannister and you sir are?"

"Podrick Payne," Tyrion answered for him. "Distant blood relations are the only thing he shares with Ilyn, none of his nature and mannerisms."

"I know," Ned smiled, to the surprise of them all, before glancing over to Mira and Sansa.

"It's great to see you again, Jenna," he continued to the chestnut haired girl. "Is your arm all right?" he probed with concern, as it appeared her arm was in a woolen sling. "Shall we get Dr Luwin to take a look?"

"Oh no, it's fine, thanks, fabulous!" Jenna said, a little too excitedly, making everyone suspect she was tipsy. "Actually, we have a present for you, Ned."

"You do? Is it something I can eat? Is it chocolate- quickly give it before my wife sees!" her father-in-law jested, while she and Robb shared a bemused look, especially as Robb started turning red.

"Dad, where are the others, out of interest?" Robb asked.

As if on cue, through a door at the side of the hall came Catelyn Stark, followed by a young man in a wheelchair- Bran, next to him was Meera Reed. Her brother Jojen came after carrying some speakers and equipment with a red haired man: Uncle Edmure Tully, Catelyn's brother; bringing in the last bit of the equipment were a muscular black haired youth with the Baratheon blue eyes and Jory Cassel, who insisted he be called D J Cass for the night, clearly falling back to his youth days rather than the head of security as he normally was. Everyone exchanged casual greetings, before Catelyn and a young attractive brown haired woman wheeled in a trolley with chicken drumsticks, halloumi bites and scampi, inviting all to take a bite.

Jon smiled, as Rodrik Forrester knelt down to Bran's level and promised that he had a present for him, something that helped him when he needed it. "I hope it helps you too, in a strange way, the ladies will love it," the Forrester winked. Jon couldn't help but grin inside as he saw Meera Reed bite her bottom lip at that, she had been glancing at Bran protectively but almost discreetly, as if trying to watch over him like a bodyguard without interfering with his show business interviews and public relations.

"Or lady," Rodrik corrected quickly.

"Is the food to your liking?" a voice startled Jon. To his shock and horror, Catelyn was stood next to him with a glass of bubbly.

"The food is very good, ma'am," Jon replied coolly, bracing himself for the insult. He had dealt with much worse than Catelyn Stark, he had been shot at while North of the Wall, almost freezing to death, he had been a prisoner of war, living with the fear of being gutted or boiled alive. She was nothing compared to what he had endured, he remembered her last words to him before he left, when she had wished it was Jon, rather than Bran, who had fallen from the tower and been maimed. He had to resist the urge to tell her that he didn't care what she thought any more. But the truth of the matter was, his father loved this woman, and he had said that today was not a day for grudges and hatred. What Jon had felt when he saw Ned today was something he could not explain, as if part of him had died and come back to life. So if it meant he had to be civil with Catelyn for Ned's sake, he would.

Catelyn looked to her feet and then back at Jon. "I know you've probably heard this so many times, but you've done really well for yourself as Lord Commander. I am proud that the boy who was raised at Winterfell went on and did us all proud." She fiddled her fingers on her glass nervously.

"I'm sure you are," Jon replied, refusing to risk saying anything cruel. He turned to go and chat to Shireen, who was telling Ned that her dad should be here soon.

"Jon, wait!" Catelyn sighed, she placed her glass down and faced him. He hated this bit, when an enemy takes your guard down and then stabs you in the back. "I know you hate me, you have every right to. I have never been fair to you, I know I said something very cruel to you- I know it's no excuse but I had been drinking and I didn't think about what I was saying, I just wished that Bran would be OK."

"So did I," Jon said sadly.

"I know, and I never realised how much you meant to Bran, Rickon and Arya, especially Arya, they missed you so much, I never realised how happy you made them- their big brother Jon… even Robb and Sansa always speak highly of you. I wish I could have seen that earlier. I could pretend that even when I was harsh on you I just wanted you to be strong… but I wish I could take it all back. I'm sorry, I hope you can forgive this stupid old mare one day."

Jon swallowed, absorbing the words he had wanted to hear years ago, words he thought he would never hear, that he still couldn't believe he had heard. He caught a glance at Shireen watching him discreetly while talking to Arya and Sansa. The Baratheon girl's blue eyes found his grey and nodded. _"_ You're a good man, Jon Snow, no a great man, if only all men could follow your example."she had once told him. She smiled at him encouragingly.

He then saw Gared nodding to him, whom he had bonded with when the latter arrived at the Wall. Like Jon, he had a home with his host family but fate had brought him to the Wall. Despite the short time, Jon trusted Gared as much as Pyp, Grenn and Samwell.

"I forgive you," Jon replied to Catelyn's relief. "Although, you're not that old," he added with a smile.

Fortunately, her shocked expression broke into a weak smile. "But I am a stupid mare, am I?"

"I didn't say that," Jon responded. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have implied it."

"It's OK, I deserved that," Catelyn admitted, before glancing over to Edmure, who was getting very cosy with the brown haired girl and giving her a massage on the shoulders.

"Rosilin Frey," Catelyn muttered. "Walder Frey's daughter by his sixth or so wife." Her voice betrayed deep resentment and mistrust, then she suddenly gaped at Jon with alarm. "I-I didn't say that, you mustn't repeat any of that, please Jon."

Jon expected to feel a shot of content that this woman was begging him. But all that anger and resentment that was held in him all those years and through all those trials, completely left him like air from his lungs. He had no need for it or pride any more.

"You have my word," Jon said simply.

"Stannis!" Ned called to the figures who were just walking in. "I'm glad you and Davos could join us!"

Stannis Baratheon was an austere man, who rarely smiled and was always in military protocol mode (or so people said). Today he arrived as straight and tall as a spear in his dark grey admiral coat that was decorated with polished medals. He wore a dour expression.

Davos Seaworth was an aging and friendly looking man. Normally he had a twinkling smile on his face and joke to lighten up the mood, but this time he was sombre, very much like his boss. Next to him was Rickon Stark, covered in a cloak looking shocked.

"Rickon, what happened?" Catelyn cried, rushing towards him. The rest of the Starks and Jory followed, but then Robb ordered everyone to take a step back.

"Rickon, why don't you sit?" Robb offered a chair. The preteen sat down gingerly.

"We found him hanging from the roof of one of the gatehouses," Davos informed.

"You were climbing?" Catelyn barked. Rickon looked sheepishly away. "You could have been killed or…..." she began, her glance betrayed her looking towards Bran, in his wheelchair, though she tried to look away. Bran sighed and wheeled away, Meera made to follow but Rodrik Forrester put a hand on her shoulder. "Let him go," he whispered gently.

"I think, we should all be glad that we're lucky enough to be alive and here and leave it at that for tonight," Rodrik suggested.

"Ricky, come with me," Sansa said, nodding to Davos and escorting her brother nearer to the hearth.

"Thank you, Mr Seaworth," Catelyn said.

"It's no bother, call us Davos, if you want," he replied.

"Either way, we can't thank you enough," Ned said, placing his hands on Catelyn's shoulders. "You are always welcome here at Winterfell.

"And I see you've brought….. company." It was at that moment Shireen saw the two gaunt figures, unkept, cold and as if they had been resurrected from the grave. The girl's brown hair was dirtied with grime and a decaying sandying colour, the older middle aged looking man's beard and hair were unkept, his fingernails were blackened, a finger or two were missing, as were a few teeth. Both had dark patches under their eyes as if they had not slept in days, or if at all they were sleeping rough. Their cheek bones could be seen through their pale emaciated faces. The girl visibly flinched at the lighting, but Shireen looked closer and realised why- her cheekbone had been broken and fused again- not that it made her hideous, but it was noticeable.

"Jeyne?" Arya said, moving closer. Jeyne turned away. "Jeyne, it's OK, it's me Arya. Who did this to you?"

"We found them on the way here," Stannis informed them. "Lying in the snow. We would have missed them, except this blond fellow with a beard waved us over and asked that we take them to where we were headed. We thought it best to take these two to you and let you decide what ought to be done, this is your house, so your decision."

People were shuffling around, trying to enquire as to what had happened. Ned motioned for Sansa to step in and remove Jeyne Poole from the gathering, to take her somewhere to get cleaned up. Sansa was transfixed on the spot for a moment, before Arya nudged her to help. It was then their attention turned to the middle aged looking man.

"Theon?" Robb asked. He approached closer before his expression darkened. "You have a lot of nerve showing your face here today!"

"Theon Greyjoy!" Catelyn snarled with more contempt than Jon had ever seen her show.

There were shouts "traitor" and "scum" echoed by several.

"I'm sorry….." Theon mumbled.

"YOU!" roared Bran with unseen anger, as he wheeled towards Theon, who cowered away. "Who do you think you are? We took you in, we fed you, looked up to you, taught you, loved you like our brother! You repaid us by getting your thugs to rob us at gunpoint in our own home! Or have you forgotten that bit?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry….." was all Theon could respond.

"Do you know Jaime Lannister once specifically warned me about you?" Jory demanded, leaving his lighthearted demeanour and persona. "I defended you to him, told him you were a good lad….." He shook his head sorrowfully. "I've heard rumours about what Ramsay Bolton, or anyone else, did to you in and out of prison. None of it takes away what you did, Theon Greyjoy."

"I thought you were going home, back to the Iron Islands?" Sansa said curtly.

"I did," Theon replied with difficulty. "But… never mind…"

"And now you've come back, hoping we'd forget about all that, that we'd invite you into our home again, sit by the fire and sing Kumbaya?" Brans scoffed, a few words betrayed his voice breaking.

"I'll go then," Theon said resigned and turned to leave.

"Then go!" snarled Catelyn, followed by assent from all the Winterfell residents, though the guests including Podrick, Mira, Rosilin and Shireen looked a bit taken aback. Shireen's blue eyes looked at Jon's, not unkindly but as if they were begging for an explanation or understanding, asking him to tell her that Theon Greyjoy really deserved this.

Jon felt an uneasy feeling in his chest and looked away. _He's broken, hunched and not even half the cocky, selfish, arrogant bully that he was, he held my brothers and Winterfell hostage at gunpoint, he_ _is traitor, a thug, he deserves no kindness from us. It doesn't matter that he probably saved Jeyne, it doesn't wash out everything else he's done. He deserves death!_

 _Would you give it to him?_ A voice asked in his head. _Would you take him out and put a bullet in his head, break his neck from a tree or cleave it off? Or would you send him out to live his last days, or day, in that bitter cold._

Jon bit his lip, clenched his fist and looked at Ned, who gave him a nod, as if he understood.

"Theon!" the Stark patriarch barked. "Thank you, that's enough!" he shouted at everyone else and they fell silent.

Theon stopped in his tracks and trembled as he turned slowly.

"I know what Ramsay Bolton did to you, everyday in prison and outside, but it doesn't make the hurt you caused any less," Ned said sternly.

"I know, sir," Theon admitted.

"Be quiet and listen!" Ned demanded. "You betrayed us in the worst ways possible and most people here want you gone, do you understand?"

Theon nodded.

"Most people want you thrown out into the cold, that you deserve it- maybe they're right," Ned said with austerity that could haunt even the strongest of wills. "But, not today." His expression softened, as the room gaped in disbelief, like they were watching a dam about to burst only for the torrents to turn into gentle waves. "Today, you'll be a guest."

"Ned…." Cat began. "Think… please….. think about what he did."

"Y-you can't?" Arya protested. "H-how?"

"How on earth are we supposed to do that?" Bran croaked.

"I know what he did, and I understand how it feels more than you realise," Ned responded tersely, for a moment he seemed to glance at Jon. "But answer me this, how many of you will eat, drink and rest easy as we tuck into our meals, knowing that someone we saw minutes ago will die from hypothermia? Could any of you do that?"

One by one, they each swallowed and looked down.

"Mark my words, Theon, this does not mean we forgive you," Ned warned. "Tonight, we will find you some lodgings, and you will eat with the rest of the stewards. Tomorrow, you will decide whether you will leave or do your damned hardest to atone for what you did."

"I will, I will, I promise," Theon pleaded like a beggar.

"Gendry, I believe Father Meribald has a project, a village?" Ned asked the black haired man, who had helped Jory and Edmure move in the sound system.

"He does indeed," Gendry replied. "I can ask if he's interested in some more help- he always is."

"Thank you, Gendry," Ned smiled, before looking back to Theon. "If you stay at those lodgings, you will report to Father Meribald and work to repay us for what you took, and I don't just mean financially. But if I hear one complaint about you from Father Meribald, Gendry there will be no more chances, Theon. Do I make myself clear?"

"I won't let you down, my lord," Theon pledged eagerly.

"Good, now Gendry will show you to your table and get you something to eat," Ned said, Gendry took the cue to escort Theon Greyjoy away from the hall and the other guests.

"I would like to apologise for that," Ned began, but a cry cut him off, though it was more of a wail.

"Like I said, your house, your decision…." Stannis said. The cry had now turned into bawling. Jenna sheepishly pulled the poncho from her shoulder back, resting on her arm in a chest pouch was pink faced baby wearing a white hat.

"Oh my God," Shireen murmured, as Jenna tried to rock the baby from side to side. The mother then gave everyone an apologetic look.

"We've been meaning to tell you for some time," Robb explained, standing next to his wife and child.

"So, we're…." Catelyn asked excitedly. "We're actually…..?"

"Yes, mother," Robb answered, before turning to his siblings. "You're all aunts and uncles!"

"That's amazing!" Sansa cried and hugged Robb and then Jenna in turn. Arya and Jon stayed at arms length, but there was a clear spark of affection in their eyes towards this child.

Bran, who had been on the verge of angry tears a moment ago, was smiling again, before wheeling towards his brother with joy.

"Ned, do you want to hold her?" Jenna offered to the older man who was too stunned to move. He nodded and held his baby granddaughter for the first time- recalling the time he had held Robb, Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon, yet none of that steeled him for this moment. He couldn't see her hair, but her eyes were a shiny blue like sapphires as she looked back at Ned and yawned.

"Hello, precious," was all Ned could utter. He held her close to his chest and felt his own heart beat for her. "It's me, your grandad. You are loved, you are always going to be loved."

"Merry Christmas, Dad," Robb croaked, blinking back a wave of emotion. Ned just smiled back at him and nodded, while rocking the baby. Robb then turned to Jon, "Do you want to hold your goddaughter?"

"What, me?" Jon asked, his heart surpised yet touched. "I-I….. I'd love to, thanks. Thank you!" He and Robb pulled each other in for a hug. Before Jenna also hugged him, telling him that she could think of no better person from what Robb had told her.

"Gently does it," Ned advised, handing over the little girl to Jon, who smile protectively at her and she smiled back. A tear fell on her cheek, making that smile fade, with confusion on that beautiful face. She tried to wipe it, explore what that was, but Jon hushed her and wiped it away with his finger, which she latched onto.

"What's her name?" Jon asked at last.

"Well, Dad, you've always told us it's best to name a child after a loved one who's passed away, that way part of them lives on," Robb answered. He then looked towards Stannis with a genuine smile. "We've decided to call her Cassana; Cassana Stark."

Stannis had never really fitted in at huge social gatherings, his back was always stood to attention as if he was on a parade or campaign. He was never known to smile, but in that second his hard eyes softened and his frown turned into a wistful smile, like the first sign of spring on a winter's day. Stannis swallowed and croaked: "Cassana Stark….. Aye, Cassana is a fine name."

* * *

 **Excerpt from Chapter 2:**

"I don't think he like me very much," Tyrion smirked, as Stannis excused himself.

"Well, if you doin't mind me saying, you have a habit of rubbing some people the wrong way, saying the wrong things. You may want to keep better check on that tongue of yours," Ned said not unkindly.

"Lord Stark, I'll have you know I highly value my two strongest assets- my mind and my tongue- I have used them to get out of trouble, to negotiate ransoms and all sorts of wonderful uses- if you know what I mean," Tyrion hinted suggestively, before giggling merrily.

Ned almost choked on his drink. "This is what I mean!" he grinned, waving his finger. "Please do not repeat that in front of Stannis if possible- on second thoughts, just don't repeat it at all!"

* * *

 **Author's Note: Thanks again for reviewing! Any ideas how Tyrion drove? As you can see Ned, Tyrion and Stannis are going to sit at a table and talk to each other- anything can happen! There will be dancing and singing in the next chapter too.  
**

 **For those who don't know- Stannis' mother was Cassana Estermont, she and Steffon Baratheon drowned as their ship was wrecked by a storm, minutes away from the harbour. Stannis saw this happen as a boy and this changed him. He refused to believe in any god after that.**

 **Let me know what you thought of the chapter and is there anything in particular you want to see in the next one?**


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

* * *

 **Author's Note: Sorry, I've been away for so long! Thanks for your patience, but I thought I should upload this. I am slowly getting back into the rhythm. Any one want to hazard a guess as to what Rodrik's present to Bran will be?**

 **Sorry if you're a Margaery fan and if you think I'm being unfair, but this is partly based on the TellTale Game.**

 **Also, there is a song that has colourful and potentially offensive language; and there is some mature humour. No offence is intended to anyone.**

 **Please read and review.**

* * *

"So, how did you get here?" Gared enquired eagerly.

Tyrion Lannister gave a short chuckle. "Why, Gared, I drove."

"He has extended pedals, which he tightens on when he wants to drive and takes them off when it's Payne's turn," Stannis snapped abruptly.

There were all sat at the dining table, with a huge lamb roast in the centre. There were trays of golden shepherd's pie, cheese topped bruschettas and flatbreads, pasta bakes submerged in tomato puree. The scent of food rumbled the bellies of each of the guests. The hearth danced with warm flames to the music from Jory's jukebox.

"So, how are things in King's Landing?" Shireen asked, trying to lighten the heavy mood.

"Terrible," Tyrion said, though it was impossible to see if he was joking.

"I hear you have met Margaery Tyrell, what's she like?"

"She's really nice, she's set up an orphanage near the Mud Gate," Sansa replied. Mira, however, shifted uncomfortably and covered her mouth with two fists, as if in prayer.

"Mira, you look like you're hiding something?" Alys teased. Mira's face turned red. Podrick, who had been keeping himself to himself, gave her a hard look.

"Share, Mira, share the goss!"

"There's nothing to share," Mira gave a smile. "She's all right."

"Have you done any major quilting lately?" Rodrik asked, trying to change the subject.

Mira just shook her head. "I….. don't think I have, it's been a long time since I've had the time."

"But you used to love it!" Talia pointed out. "Is uni that hardcore? Or is Margaery working you too hard?"

"It's fine," Mira just responded. "I was thinking Rodrik, that maybe I could come back home, study at White Harbour?"

"I thought you liked King's Landing?" Rodrick replied confused. "Mira, what's really going on?"

"She and Margaery have had a tiff," Sansa smirked.

"Sansa," Podrick said sternly. Sansa immediately regretted her comment.

"Excuse me," Mira said, rising and walking away from the table.

Rodrik, Pod, Talia and Sansa rose in unison, but Tyrion motioned for Sansa to let Mira go.

"It's nothing, carry on," Rodrik smiled.

Ned gave a nod and continued his conversation with Stannis.

"Podrick, what's happened?" the older Forrester asked, as they followed Mira, who had ventured towards the double doors that led outside.

Pod looked conflicted.

"Look, that's our sister, if there's something going on, we need to know," Talia argued.

"It's not my place to say, you should ask her," Pod replied, nodding towards the doors.

Rodrik sighed, not knowing whether to feel impressed or annoyed at his loyalty.

Stepping into the chilly night that was shedding snowflakes that darted like fireflies in the wind that howled, they saw Mira Forrester in only her green jumper, huddling by the fountain of a wolf.

"Mira," Talia called. The older girl glanced behind her but shifted her gaze back ahead.

"Mira, I'm sorry about what happened back there," Rodrik croaked. "If you'd rather not talk about it now, that's OK."

Mira said nothing and just huddled with her arms wrapped around her slim body; she shivered and stared blankly into the distance. It dawned on Rodrik that her cheeks were draping on her facial bones. Podrick took off his coat and placed it gently over Mira's slender figure, causing her to tense for a split second, before relaxing. "Thank you, Pod….. but you'll be cold now!"

"Shall we go inside then?" Talia suggested, jumping to keep herself warm. "Mira, you know you can tell us anything, right?"

Mira gave a weak smile and nodded. "I know, it's fine, it's… just that…. I thought Margaery would be more understanding of my situation, of our situation." They had stepped back inside, the loss of the chill was nothing to be missed.

"She's never had to deal with what we're going through," Rodrik sighed. "At least not to our level."

"I know, it's just that, I made one mistake and she keeps reminding me of it over and over again, and I've had enough," Mira uttered, to her surprise she was on the verge of tears that she had been holding in, that she was still fighting to hold back.

"Are you sure there's no way you can sort this out?" Talia probed.

Mira gave a scoffed laugh and shook her head. "I got assaulted."

"What?" Rodrik and Talia exclaimed.

"By who?" her brother demanded.

"How? When?" Talia asked, with anger in her voice.

Mira shook her head sadly. "It doesn't matter now."

"She fought him off," Pod said, with a hidden pride in his voice, prompting Mira to crack a smile.

"You didn't tell, Margaery?" Talia deduced. "Was she not your friend once? Surely, she would have been more supportive."

"Margaery doesn't have time for her old friends any more," Mira admitted, she fell against the wall and slid down to a sitting position.

Rodrik sat down next to her, his voice was gentle, but holding back cold fury. "Mira, I'm so sorry you had to go through that. I'd give anything to have been there for you. Give me a name. Please."

"I don't need you beat him up, Rodrik, I know that's exactly what you'll do. Asher would march over to him right this moment and knock his teeth out; you would think long and hard, and you would mean everything you do, Rodrik," Mira croaked.

"I'm sorry for leaving you alone in that place," her brother said, his voice with deep regret, recalling how excited Mira once was that she was studying and working with Margaery Tyrell, and when they were transferring to the capital.

"I wasn't alone, not completely," Mira said, turning slightly red- the downside to her pale complexion. She glanced towards the youth from King's Landing, who also burned with embarrassment.

"It was nothing," Pod said quickly.

"Don't be modest, you pretty much incapacitated that upjumped snake and his bodyguard!" Mira laughed.

"Are you serious?" Rodrik exclaimed. "So you got assaulted more than once?" He took a long deep breath. "I'd rather you said something earlier and come home earlier."

"It's done now," Podrick shrugged.

"Look, mate, I want to say thank you for everything you've done for my sister," Rodrik sighed. "If you want to that transfer then we'll see what can be done."

"Thank you, Rodrik," Mira croaked, throwing her arms around him and then pulling Talia in as well.

"So, are you ready to come back to the table?" Pod said with a smile that was impossible to not return. Mira stood up, threw her arms around him and gave him a peck on the cheek- the flush spread over him like wildfyre. With Mira's arms still around him, she whispered: "Thank you, for being my knight, Pod. Tyrion always speaks very highly of you."

"Anytime," Pod whispered back as they broke apart.

"Why don't you lot go inside," Rodrik suggested. "I need to pick up a present for Bran, I might as well as we're out here."

Sansa and Alys met them at the doors to the Great Hall. Before any of them could apologise, Mira smiled and waved them down. "It's OK, honestly, don't worry about it." Both gave a curt nod and a sheepish smile.

"Mira, is everything all right?" Ned called.

"Thank you, sir, it's fine."

As Mira joined them again, Tyrion raised his glass. "Look at that, the prodigal lass returns!" He turned to Podrick, took his seat opposite Mira, and gave a subtle nod.

"So, Pod, what's that path called again, the one that starts in the Ashemark?"

Podrick piped up. "Oh, the Ash Road Trail! It's one of the biggest cycle tracks in Westeros, runs through Riverrun and then High Heart, I'm thinking of riding it- last time I tried was when I was fourteen, I got to the Crag and thought I was at the Bloody Gate." There was a murmur of chuckles.

"Oh, that was you? I used to wonder what Oliver Twist was doing at my end," Jeyne gave a cheeky wink, while bobbing Cassana on her lap."

"I've actually played that part at school," Podrick admitted bashfully.

"No way!" Mira interjected, a hand reaching to his shoulder. Pod just nodded.

"Sorry, isn't the Crag the complete opposite way?" Edmure japed.

"It is, but I was trying to get out of doing it then," Pod admitted. "I look at it differently now, I want to do it."

"I think it's fantastic that you want to do this, Pod," Mira grinned, the excitement and melancholy falling to equilibrium in that moment. "Do you think a dedicated fan could tag along?" she said more softly.

"Sure," Pod said quickly.

"I could come too!" Talia interjected.

"Yeah, we might as well come cheer you on," Gared smirked; both of them earned a death stare by Mira.

"So, what do people do for fun around the North, Ned?" Tyrion asked.

"Well, many things- there's the rugby, football, we sometimes have bards come down here. There's the annual kitten hunt to commemorate the five days Corben Stark looked for his favourite kitten, Anthia. Some lucky chap or chapess gets to be the kitten and a team has to find them within five hours," Ned explained, gesturing animatedly.

"Forgive me, but is this a glorified version of hide and seek?" Stannis said curtly.

"I suppose so, but there are a few teams with their own kitten- the only catch is your 'kitten' can't be your family, otherwise the kitten will only have to be very bad at hiding and their team will always win."

"I've never really got along with cats," Stannis admitted.

"Stannis Baratheon not liking cats!" Tyrion smirked. "What is the world coming to?"

"What's wrong with cats?" Shireen said with mock offence.

"Yes, what is wrong with cats, in your exalted opinion?" Tyrion pressed.

"Nothing!" Stannis snapped, as if he was alien to the conversation that had just happened.

"Did a cat take your bed, your shoes or your sense of fun and adventure?" Tyrion teased.

"I have a sense of adventure," Stannis said defensively.

"In your own way," Ned attempted to pacify the situation.

"But what about your sense of fun, what did you last do for fun?"

"Well, I patrolled Eastwatch by the Sea-"

"No, no, no! I said: when did you last have fun? Not when did you last carry out your job as Admiral."

"When I patrolled Eastwatch by the Sea," Stannis insisted tersely. "We caught eight Northern Haddocks, and a Great White Whale, the most endangered species North of the Neck, which we had to nurse and tag.

"That's what I enjoyed the most from my patrol."

Tyrion looked apologetic. "Excuse me, sir, I sometimes forget my manners."

"That's quite all right," Stannis said, taking a sip, before excusing himself.

"I don't think he likes me very much," Tyrion simpered, after the Baratheon had gone.

"Very observant," Ned gave a small chuckle. "Well, if you doin't mind me saying, you have a habit of sometimes rubbing some people the wrong way, saying the wrong things. You may want to keep better check on that tongue of yours," Ned said not unkindly, taking a piece off a drumstick.

"Lord Stark, I'll have you know I highly value my two strongest assets- my mind and my tongue- I have used them to get out of trouble, to negotiate ransoms and all sorts of wonderful uses- if you know what I mean," Tyrion hinted suggestively, before giggling merrily.

Ned almost choked on his drink. "This is what I mean!" he grinned, waving his finger. "Please don't repeat that in front of Stannis if possible- on second thoughts, just don't repeat it at all!"

"Fine, fine, I will not repeat it," Tyrion conceded jovially.

A few yards away Rodrik had returned from outside, shivering and shaking off snow from his mane of brown hair.

"Nice of you to join us," Elaena said dryly, with a grin.

Rodrik didn't say anything and just held a long black stick with yellow joints. The top end was decorated with a bronze wolf head. He walked over to Bran and held out the cane. "This helped me when I was badly injured, feels like a long time ago. I thought about keeping it, because it's pretty cool, look: you can adjust it and make it into…. A crutch…." He fiddled with the mechanics and the handle was now a crutch hand.

"I had to have dinner with Elaena, a bit after I was injured, I was actually supposed to propose to her." Rodrik related. "I was quite nervous, but this little baby here was always there with me and helped me charm her into saying yes. I'm 90 per cent sure, it wasn't out of pity."

They all shared a chuckle, Bran cracked a smile. Elaena gave Rodrik an admonishing yet amused look.

"Of course, I'm that unpredictable, I accept proposals based on the walking sticks of my suitors," Elaena retorted finally.

"Well that and my dashingly good looks and my sense of humour, and my car and house, my elegant suit," Rodrik continued, grinning.

"Keep talking," Elaena challenged slyly. "That's it, keep talking."

"Can I try it?" Bran asked, before things had any chance to escalate.

"Yeah, sure," Rodrik answered and Elaena helped Bran fit his right arm onto the crutch. Dr Luwin had told him not to let his legs become inactive, or else they would lose all feeling, so Bran had made do with a rocker, but that was impossible to take down stairs- Mum and Dad had to have a specialist stair lift from Hodor plc installed, and his room had to be moved to the ground floor.

Bran heaved himself with all his strength and stood, holding the table and the crutch for support, biting his mouth in a grimace. He hovered on his crutch, releasing his hold from the table and exhaled, before flashing a bright grin, brighter than he had in a long time. "Thank you," he said to Rodrik. "Thank you, so much."

"Look, at that, that's amazing!" Sansa called.

Bran let out a gasp and fell back into his seat, letting out a disappointed sigh, tears almost falling from his eyes.

"Bran, that was brilliant," Meera whispered gently, touching his shoulder.

"Yeah, that was a really great effort," Jojen concurred.

Bran looked at his table and nodded, curling his hand into a fist.

"Thank you, I'm sure it will take time for Bran to get used to it, in the mean time, let's finish up the meal, I hear Talia and Gared are going to sing for us!" Ned urged.

"We are?" Gared said, turning pale.

They all took their plates to the trolley to send for cleaning.

"Hey," Rodrik said, walking over to Bran, when most of the guests were on their feet.

"Hey," Bran replied.

"Listen, try not to be too disheartened. You dad is right, it _will_ take some time to get used to, when I first used it, I fell on my side and Talia had to support me from one end of the house to the other. Keep at it, and slowly it will help."

"I know," Bran whispered. "Thank you, Rodrik, I really appreciate it."

The lights dimmed as the melody of piano notes fell on them all. Gared and Talia were sat by the piano, the former donning black sunglasses, and Talia with a banjo on her lap.

"Should we give, a warning, maybe?" Gared asked his partner in crime. His hands were sweating, he recalled that he had last done this many years ago at Ironrath- Talia had caught him singing this song and then begged and blackmailed him into teaching it to her.

"Oh yeah, sorry but this song has language that might be considered colourful and offensive," Talia warned. Jon grinned and covered Cassana's ears, causing her to look behind her and smile. Shireen mirrored the same for Stannis, who gave her a perplexed look and motioned for her to sit down, but not without a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. Shireen sat down next to him and laughed, before leaning against his shoulder.

" _It was Christmas Eve babe,"_ Gared began.

" _In the drunk tank, an old man said to me,_

 _Won't see another one and then he sang this song,_

 _The rare old mountain dew I turned my face away_

 _And dreamed about you._

" _Got on a lucky one came in eighteen to one,_

 _I've got a feeling this year's for me and you_

 _So Happy Christmas, I love you baby,_

 _I can see a better time where all our dreams come true."_

He upped the tempo, signaling for Talia to strum the banjo and erupt into her verse, prompting the audience to tap their feet and join in the merriment, as the wind sang in harmony outside.

Gared and Talia went from complimenting each other- from him calling her "Queen of Winter City" to a round of insults.

" _You're a bum, you're a punk!"_ Talia said.

" _You're an old slut on junk, lying there almost dead on a drip on that bed!"_ Gared retorted, Talia mocked offence and pointed to Gared, while facing her audience with her mouth gaped open. She made eye contact with Rodrik and motioned towards Gared, her older brother just laughed.

" _You scumbag, you maggot, you cheap lousy faggot, Happy Christmas your arse, I pray God it's our last!"_

" _The boys of Northern Consty choir were singing Gulltown Bay,_

 _And the bells were ringing out for Christmas Day!"_

During the intercession, Jon felt a tap on his shoulder, Alys giddily nudged him.

"Hey," he said.

"Hey, you," she said, the smell of her liquor on her. "Thank you, for bringing me here."

"Anytime," he replied genuinely. She motioned towards Edmure and Rosilin who had started dancing.

"How about that dance I owe you from years ago?" Alys giggled. "You would always look so moody, like you wanted it."

"I told you to go easy on the wine," Jon said. "Alright then, one dance." He took her hand and on the floor.

" _I could have been someone,"_ Gared lamented, discarding his sunglasses.

" _Well so could anyone, you took my dreams from me when I first found you."_

" _I kept them with me babe, I put them with my own, can't make it on my own, I built my dreams around you."_

"Look at that!" Jon exclaimed suddenly; Alys, Shireen and fair few eyes turned to see Bran Stark on his feet, cane in his hand, feet slowly swaying to the music, Meera Reed gently guiding his other hand with a wistful grin on her face.

Edmure and Rosilin stopped their dance, with him just holding her from the back, admiring his nephew side step with some difficulty yet quickly gaining grace.

Bran now leaned on his cane, yet twirled Meera around twice and then three times.

"Keep playing," Talia whispered to Gared, who gave an assenting nod.

The dance became slower, as Bran grew more tired, the couple orbited the dance floor like planets over a star, until one of them- Bran glided into a seat, face red with life, energy and fire. Meera grinned and hugged him.

"Nice moves, Bran!" Arya complimented, followed by applause from the room.

"I told him the ladies would love it," Rodrik grinned to Shireen.

Meanwhile, Stannis was sat at the table, musing into his cup, avoiding more mingling than was necessary.

"Admiral," Tyrion said sheepishly.

"Treasurer," Stannis responded, pulling a chair out, allowing Tyrion to climb on it.

"Drink?" Tyrion offered a whiskey flask. "Maybe you military type prefer this?"

"No, thank you," Stannis replied, pouring himself more water.

"I might have been a little dismissive of you and your…. characteristics, shall we say," Tyrion said, but Stannis waved him away.

"It's quite all right, you are not the first and you won't be the last."

"Ah, people meaner than the Imp have said-" Tyrion began.

"Why do _you_ call yourself that?" Stannis demanded.

"Well, Imps are supposed to be magical, what boy doesn't want to learn magic?" Tyrion grinned.

"They call you that to insult you, along with Halfman and Dwarf," Stannis pointed out.

"It's what they call me, it's what they will always call me till the day I die, but I choose to wear the label like armour, so nothing can pierce me," Tyrion replied, his smile fading.

"Right," Stannis grunted. "How can you wear 'Halfman' like armour? That would imply you're a coward, which you're not."

"How would you know that?" Tyrion probed. The Lannister's eyes glowed with intrigue and thirst like a student to a teacher. The Baratheon's gaze met with his and surprisingly broke first.

"When you were a kid, we were all at the Tourney at Maidenpool, where the King's cousin: Viktor Lomas, a sea prince of Braavos, was visiting. I cannot remember why or how it happened, but he called you 'a little monster who should have been killed the moment he was born'."

"Ah, yes, I remember, but he wasn't the first one," Tyrion admitted.

"Robert would have slugged him there and then, Renly….. he would have needed one of us, I would have also lost my temper, but not you," Stannis recalled. "Everyone expected you to crumble, run to your father, or take it without complaint. You looked him straight in the eyes and told him that if little monsters scare him then he was welcome to leave the Seven Kingdoms and go back to his mother's lap. Otherwise he should be careful about what he ate, there might be something unpleasant in his food and drink."

"I thought he was going to slug me then!" Tyrion said. "I'm told my tongue has a habit of getting me into trouble."

"I'm told my face does that, people don't like me frowning," Stannis offered, cracking a slight smile, causing Tyrion to force back a laugh, turning it into a polite grin.

"But he didn't, because a dozen men had gathered behind you; the sea prince decided to shut his mouth."

"I seem to remember a scowling young man leading those men," Tyrion said, quietly. "And I have never properly thanked him. So, thank you, Admiral Baratheon."

"You're welcome, Chancellor, if I may say so, I have read your budgets and I wish you had been appointed earlier, rather than Littlefinger. Unlike most people, you know what you're doing and have demonstrated an ounce of common sense."

Tyrion didn't know why, but the words struck his heartstrings, after having bypassed his defences. Admiral Stannis Baratheon, the most austere man with the most strict standards and expectations had just given him a vote of confidence. Tyrion found himself smiling broadly and holding back the remote possibility of crying tears.

"Everything else about you, though, requires much to be desired," Stannis added, prompting a chuckle from the Lannister, who raised a glass.

"To sharp tongues," Tyrion toasted. "Sharp minds and iron scowls."

"Aye," Stannis assented and raised his own glass to the toast.

"Ladies and gents, on your feet!" Ned Stark clapped and ordered.

"Come on!" DJ Cass joined in, fiddling with the juke box. "Come on, it's Christmas, and it's time for all of you to show your moves!" The lights dimmed and a new song broke out, that sang a choir of festivity.

"Cat, with me!" Ned urged, to his wife who blushed and took another sip of her drink. "Come one, you can chug that later!" He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet and they both began jamming to the beat.

" _Snow is falling all around me,_

 _Children playing having fun,_

 _Tis the season, love and understanding,_

 _Merry Christmas everyone!"_

By this time, virtually everyone was merry enough to leave their dignified and reserved inhibitions on their seats. Edmure Tully was laughing manically and dancing first with Roslin Frey and then Sansa and Rickon.

Jenna passed little Cassana over to Bran, who was seated with Meera and Stannis- who had taken to standing. The fifteen year old smiled to Meera, urging that she could go and enjoy herself, while he cradled his niece, who began shouting and pointing at the juke box. An arm's length away Theon and Jeyne sat in a corner, relaxing majorly since their arrival, but still hesitant to make themselves more at home.

Ned, Robb, Gendry, Edmure, Rodrik, Jojen and Gared had formed a dancing flashmob, which involved each of them spinning, tapping their heels on the floor and whatever the music ordered them to, causing the ladies to laugh with delight.

Jon found himself next to Shireen, to his pleasant surprise. "Hey, Jon," she said, nudging him. He grinned at her and hesitated.

"Are you all right?" she probed.

"Yeah, listen, do you…?" Jon cleared his throat and then stood tall, holding out his hand. "May I have this dance, Shireen?"

Her face brightened like a supernova. "I would love to!"

 _Good, now just do not step on her feet_ , a voice in his head ordered, as Shireen took his hand. He had secretly practised his moves as he had jealously watched all the girls line up to dance with Robb, rather than him.

The first few steps were clunky, but within a few moments, Jon had forced himself to keep the moves as simple as possible. He and Shireen were tapping, stepping and shimmying to the tune, he threw in the occasional spin, prompting Shireen to give one of the most beautiful of laughs he had ever heard, a genuine and merry laugh, not harsh or shrill, but one that he longed to hear like a song.

" _We're gonna have a party tonight,_

 _I'm gonna find that girl underneath the mistletoe,_

 _We'll kiss by candlelight!"_ Shireen mouthed to the words. Her blue eyes enticing him like clear water on an oasis. If Stannis had not been watching, Jon would have kissed her, after all the man had threatened to behead him as a strange way of showing respect and admiration for the Lord Commander.

As the song drew to an end, Ned began a round of applause for them all, which the whole house joined in, even Theon and Jeyne, even Stannis, although a little reservedly.

"People, grab something to drink and toast with," Ned commanded. "All of you, now!"

As they all complied and sat down, Ned took his place standing at the head of the table.

"I want to thank you all for coming today, it has been a huge pleasure, I have enjoyed your company, and I hope you all have enjoyed this evening."

"Here, here!" Tyrion said, prompting a verbal assent from half the room.

"Winter is coming," Ned said, and Jon could not but help that his tone became a bit more sombre. "Look outside, it's howling, but we all could have a warm dinner and hearth and hospitality inside and every single one of you helped that to happen.

"What I'm trying to tell you all is that you need to remember this, how we did this, how it felt and why we need to do this."

"Why is he talking in riddles?" Shireen pondered to Jon.

"Probably because he's been drinking," Jon said, although not believing it himself.

"You may wonder why I'm talking like this," Ned acknowledged. "I'm not actually here, I'm not actually with you all right now, at least not physically. This might be hard to hear, but I died at King's Landing."

"What?" Sansa gasped.

"Dad, don't talk like that, please!" Arya begged, on the verge of tears.

"I'm sorry, darling," Ned shook his head. "I'm not the only one." Robb, Catelyn, Jory, Rodrik Cassel and Jojen Reed stood up apologetically.

"Robb? Cat? Oh no!" Edmure dropped his happy go lucky demeanour, replacing it with fear, relying on Roslin to hold his shoulders, and gulping herself. Meera let out a short one second sob, which she fought to hold back.

Jon suddenly felt a stinging pain in his chest and stomach; Shireen latched her hand on to his shoulder. "Jon, are you all right? Please… don't… you're not are you….?"

"Why are we here then?" Tyrion dared to ask.

"And equally importantly: how?" Stannis demanded.

"How is not important right now," Ned replied. "As to why? Because winter is well and truly coming, it is upon us right now. It will not care whether we are old, young, male, female, Stark, Lannister, Forrester, Baratheon, Greyjoy, Targaryen or whatever. It will come and take us all, unless the living stand together against the hordes of the dead, and they do it fast!"

The whole room was silent like a crypt, as the gravity weighed down on them.

"So, what now?" Gendry asked.

"Remember and help one another in the days to come," Ned advised, walking over to the hearth with a pail of water. "This is a dream, but that does not mean it's not real, some dreams are as real as the flesh, and the best one that we should all hold on to is a Dream of Spring. Winter may becoming, but so too will Spring." Ned smiled and poured the water on hearth, taking out all the light in the room.

* * *

 **Author's Note: How was that? By the way, I know Jojen is not dead in the books, but he keeps hinting that he will not make the journey back.  
**

 **There is still one more chapter- the Epilogue, I would love your thoughts on this chapter and the next.**


	3. Epilogue

EPILOGUE

* * *

 **Author's Note: And here is the Epilogue for you all!  
**

 **Here's what's been happening to all the other folk; though I've not included Edmure, Roslin and Jeyne in this. I know the timing has been altered a bit and not all these things are strictly happening at the same time.**

 **I also know that Sigorn is actually from House Thenn- who are NOT cannibals but the most civilised of free folk in the books, but I've changed this to House Lake just to avoid confusion. Some of the POVs are longer than others. Regarding Mira, I actually did not chose this option on my playthrough, but for the purpose of this fic it is the only one that gives her hope.**

 **I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

 _Winterfell_

The man gasped as the frigid snow, along with its storm, fought to drown him and his companion. He struggled to stay afloat, his head and body throbbed with pain, blood trickled from his nose, as he spied a large old man with a beard and a patch on his eye.

"Who goes there?" the large man demanded, as he pulled the man to his feet, as the larger man's squires arrived to do the same for the brown haired girl.

"Re- no, Th-th…." the man began. "Theon, my name is Theon."

 _Braavos_

A girl gazed into the sword in her hand- her Needle, she glanced at the House of Black and White and then towards the shipyard under the sunset.

 _Who am I?_ She asked herself bitterly. _Just who am I? What am I? Do I even know?_

" _You are Arya of Winterfell, daughter of the North,"_ a mysterious yet soothing voice echoed in her voice. _"You told me you can be brave."_

Arya let out tears that she had been holding in for weeks, if not months, and tightened the grip on Needle. "I can be brave, I must be brave." She stepped into the shallow water and began her wade to the shipyard. "I can be brave. I can be brave."

Another girl in the Vale of Arryn woke with a breathless gasp, as she found herself whispering that mantra that the girl in the dream had been reciting. After a few exhales, she cracked her first genuine smile of pride in a very long time.

 _Meereen_

Tyrion gazed in awe as he mounted the first step towards the Great Pyramid of Meereen, the iconic harpy looking down upon him. Here he was, further East than any Lannister had gone, or was he? What if he ran into his uncle Gerion here? How he would love to see his favourite uncle again, someone who didn't betray him, look at him with distrustful contempt or was too young to do anything or understand anything. He quickly pushed that childish thought from his mind and began his long ascent.

 _Skagos_

Davos grabbed hold of Rickon by the hand, leading him into a side street that was part of the labyrinth of this wretched island, with Osha and the direwolf following behind.

"Dead end!" Davos yelled in frustration, hearing his own heartbeat despite the cries of the mob that was on their tails. "Can you fight?" he asked the wildling woman, before drawing his own sword.

"Are you having a laugh, Grandfather?" Osha scoffed, readying her makeshift spear. "Go on lad, get in one of those crates, she motioned to the corner of the alleyway.

"Summer, give them hell!" Davos ordered the direwolf, which gave an assenting growl.

 _King's Landing_

Mira Forrester shut her eyes, wanting to fall into the earth. She was a coward, because of her, an innocent boy lay headless on the block; it should have been her, but it wasn't and now her punishment had just begun.

"Come along, Mira," the rat, who was going to be her husband, raper and gaoler said. "I have a busy day ahead." His touch made her want to puke, every breath she took came with difficulty, as if it they were not her own, but stolen from someone else. _I wish I had never come to King's Landing, I wish none of this had happened. I wish I had never been born!_

Rickard Morgryn's hand grabbed on to her wrist and he pulled her along, like a beast with a chain around its neck. "Come now, you don't want to ruin that pretty face for you husband to be, do you?"

Mira shook her head.

"Splendid," the snake gave what the naive would call a charming smile. "To reward you, I will get you the finest necklace I can find!"

They had just about reached the Smithy Road, when the gallop of a horse could be heard, before a stallion came veering towards Mira, who momentarily flinched but then embraced what was about to happen. Except nothing hit her, but a ferocious neigh and a crashing sound preceded Morgryn falling flat on his back.

"Mira!" cried a voice. She opened her eyes to see a youth in a reddish brown surcoat and dark hair, carrying a quarterstaff and riding the horse that had just collided with the ironwood merchant.

Mira felt like weeping with relief and joy at this undeserved intervention.

"You have no idea who you're messing with!" Morgryn spat, pulling down Podrick's staff and the youth himself, before punching him and grappling his neck.

Mira's mind was cast back to Damien the soldier drowning Tom, the boy she had saved then but betrayed moments ago to save her own neck. She glanced down at her nails, the only weapon she had. _Iron form Ice!_

She launched at Morgryn's face, gouging at his eyes, piercing his cheek, where she had wounded him before he had come to her in the prison. She wished that she could have bitten him as well.

Morgryn screamed with fury, before turning his attention on her. However, Podrick's elbow thumped into his temple, incapacitating the snake for the time being.

"Fight! Fight! Fight!" called some onlookers.

"My lady, we have to move now," Podrick said, holding out his hand. His eyes pleading with her. His trustworthy eyes, where one of them was flanked by a purple bruise that he had gained for her.

She took it.

 _Ironrath_

Rodrik Forrester bellowed with rage as he drove his sword right into mouth of Harys Highfield- the lieutenant of Ludd Whitehill's army. The larger man lay dead and defeated at last, but none of that numbed the pain Rodrik was feeling in his gut where he had been stabbed, from where he was bleeding, or the pain in his heart as his own mother lay dead, all because she was saving his life. His heart ached as he watched his home burn, as he recalled how Asher, his younger brother, who had shown more courage and selflessness in his last moments than Rodrik had ever shown.

"Go on, I know what I'm doing," Asher had said, as they both held the helm of a portcullis, knowing that it would fall without one of the brothers holding it, trapping one of them to face certain death by the Whitehill onslaught.

Rodrik had hesitated, thinking of Elaena and his hopefulness at the idea that she was carrying his child, although an uncomfortable voice in the back of his head called it selfishness that led to his younger brother's sacrifice. Ryon was a prisoner, Mira was in constant danger, and Talia was inside possibly watching all this happen, watching her mother die and her brother struggling to stop their home from burning. And now his mother also lay dead saving him. He should have executed Harys the moment he and Arthur Glenmore regained control of Ironrath and took Gryff Whitehill prisoner.

A loud collision on the main gate tore it open, as several Whitehill soldiers poured on through like cockroaches over sugar. The next few moments were a blur as Rodrik was jumped by three soldiers, taking slashes from two and killing them and being kicked by a third and having a fourth loose and arrow into his leg, but the adrenaline in his blood began to feel a tidal wave that kept on coming, barely registering the pain until it struck him like a concrete wall. He may have heard a horn, but he did not care, as his whole body throbbed and found himself surrounded by a crossbow, longbow and swordsman. He let out a silent cry, as Gryff Whitehill strutted past him on his horse; Rodrik wished he had kept Ludd's head to throw at him, since depravity was the only language he understood.

"Lord Gryff, I think…. There appears…." a Whitehill sergeant wheezed.

Rodrik understood how he felt- his own arms refused to raise his greatsword. "The North remembers..." he rasped at the three soldiers who had surrounded him, his own throat failing him.

"Deal with it then!" Gryff snapped. "I want to watch Rodrik the Ruined choke on his own fucking blood!" He gave the signal for the crossbow to release the bolt. Rodrik braced himself to taste the punch and be done with it, it was over.

But nothing came, for the crossbow gasped as an arrow protruded through his neck.

"What the-!" Gryff yelled. Several men wearing wolf skin capes came charging and hacking at the Whitehill soldiers with their axes and impaling them with spears. Other men bearing surcoats with the silver fist of House Glover darted into view, notching and loosening arrows. Rodrik grinned with disbelief and gratitude, daring to question his fortune- weren't the Glovers supposed to have been prisoners in Deepwood Motte? How could they be here? Was this a trick?

"This is impossible! It's not fair!" Gryff screamed, before his horse fell with a missile in its head. "Damn you, archers, regroup you fools!"

By the time the remaining Whitehill archers had rallied to their failing general, six destriers carrying knights with spears were cutting through them like butter, forcing several archers to yield. Rodrik saw the black bear of House Mormont on the vests of the riders, as the leader nodded to him.

"My lord, we're surrounded!" a Whitehill soldier shouted to Gryff. "We have to surrender!"

"Never!" Gryff screamed. "I don't care if it kills you…..." he broke off as a retinue of heavily armoured knights, carrying a brightly coloured standard galloped into view. Even the Mormont cavalry stepped aside as if showing respect. The leader of this retinue was a large man, with a red fiery heart holding a black stag on his breastplate.

"Baratheon?" Rodrik croaked.

The man pushed himself off his horse and landed with a heavy thud. He pulled of his helm to reveal his hair was dark and eyes that were a deep blue in the torched night.

Gryff Whitehill made to lunge with his sword, as if to engage in one on one combat, but with fear in his eyes. The large man drew his sword in anticipation and shoved hard against the heir to Highpoint; it was at this moment Gryff jumped back, dropping his sword, as if he had been blazed by fire. His legs gave way, as he scrambled away into the clutches of a Mormont spear horseman.

"Remain seated, Lord Forrester," the general ordered, causing Rodrik to realise that his own legs must have failed him. "Lady Glover will get a maester for you." He motioned to a middle aged lady who had pulled up next to him. As she lowered her hood, Rodrik smiled with relief and gave short chuckle that pained his chest, remembering the face that had often scolded him yet made him laugh when he was younger and dining with his liege lord at Deepwood Motte. She pulled a vial of white milk of the poppy and urged Rodrik to drink before helping him to his feet.

"Help put the fires out," the Baratheon ordered to the rest of his men. "We request your hospitality for the night, my lord."

"Gladly, your Grace," Rodrik said hoarsely. "Thank you."

The king nodded, before turning to Gryff. "As for you, resistance is pointless, your army has been defeated."

"You can't do this!" Gryff cried. "We have the backing of House Bolton, and the Iron Throne…. Who are you?"

"I am Stannis of House Baratheon, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, Rhoynar and First Men and Protector of the Realm. I order an end to your petty war. After I am done with you, you will either give me your allegiance and march on Winterfell with me, or give me your head."

"You…. Can't do that…." Gryff sobbed. "That's not fair!"

"He's being very fair, he's giving you a choice!" Rodrik retorted, and for a small second, he saw the corner of Stannis' mouth twitch.

 _The Wall_

"Get away from him!" Shireen roared, but nobody paid any heed. "By order of the princess, I order you to leave him alone!"

Bowen Marsh stood back, along with Wick Wittlestick, and several other stewards.

"It had to be done, princess," Bowen said. "Stay out of this!"

"Or else what?" Shireen demanded. She gasped at the sight of Lord Commander Jon Snow clutching at the wounds on his stomach and chest. She moved closer help him up, but Bowen's sturdy arm barged into her shoulder.

"I told you to stay out of this!" He roughly shoved her back. "The Night's Watch has to remain neutral, he broke that and the punishment is death."

"He is your Lord Commander!" shouted Shireen. She turned her attention to Olly- Jon's squire. "He took you in, made you his squire, looked after you!"

Olly shook his head with tears in his eyes.

"You would not dare to harm the princess, would you?" Alys appeared behind Shireen, with Val and Sigor of House Lake. They were each armed with a sword or axe or dagger.

"Move out of the way, Lord Steward, we will be taking Jon Snow with us," Val ordered. "With me, Lord Commander."

Jon's blood was soaking the snow, as he struggled to get up, his body was convulsing, his breath wheezy and laboured.

"I don't think so," Wick Wittlestick spat. "The princess would do well to walk away now, as for the rest of you, you will die like traitors if you stop us from executing this traitor." He turned to Jon and was about to slash with his sword, when an arrow was suddenly lodged in his chest. Wick barely registered and let out a scream, as he fell to the snow.

One of the other mutineers, a tall dark haired man with a beard and missing fingers on his left hand, pulled out a crossbow and faced the direction that the arrow had come from. "Gared Tuttle!" he barked to a figure in a grey cloak that was now draped apart to reveal a brown haired man in a black brother's uniform. Next to him was a large dark haired man in a wildling fur coat, he carried a spear and looked like he knew how to use it against swordsmen. The mutineers were now caught between Shireen and these newcomers.

"You heard her," Gared said evenly. "Step away from the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, Frostfinger."

"That's the second brother you have murdered!" Frostfinger snarled. "Not only that, you deserted the Watch after you were sentenced to death for your previous murder."

"That was in self defence, Frostfinger, and you know it!" Gared responded. "What I see, is that you lot just tried to murder your Lord Commander." He nocked an arrow to his bow again and prepared to draw back the bowstring, while Frostfinger loaded his crossbow. "I'm not going to ask you again."

"I wouldn't want you to!" Frostfinger smirked grimly, pulling up his own crossbow. "So, do you really think you can put that in me before I put a bolt in your head, Tuttle?"

Both men glared at one another, like animals about to fight, like heroes of an ancient age preparing for their final showdown under the sun, cloud and snow.

Frostfinger clicked, Gared's bowstring twanged, followed by a gasp.

 _Duskendale_

Podrick rode over the hill overlooking the Port of Duskendale, the setting sun enticing Pod and his companion, seemingly a boy with short dark hair and oversized brown clothes- perhaps a page to the squire, or newly made knight. They had travelled for days, changing their clothes, their appearance, they had travelled under the threat of capture and torture, evading the same fate and sentence that had been imposed on their friend.

"We'll rest there for the night," Pod suggested. "If Lady Brienne is there, we can ask for her help and protection, I hear she's searching for Sansa Stark, we might have to help her in return, until we can find our own way to Ironrath…. Or wherever." He hoped he sounded more confident than he was, he didn't really have a Plan B, he knew what could happen to them both, what would happen to his companion should they be captured. His companion didn't say anything, just nodded absent mindedly. She hadn't spoken a word since their journey began.

"Are you worried about Tyrion?" he projected, he sure was, while Tyrion and Pod's companion were on cordial terms, he was unsure if her relationship was actually anything more than an alliance or whether they both just happened to have something the other wanted.

"I hear he escaped and the whole realm is looking for him, since we don't have a dwarf, fewer eyes would be on us," Pod assured himself, as much as her. "Wherever he is, he'll be fine, he's a smart man."

"Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?" the girl disguised as a boy whispered.

Podrick bit back offence; he should have expected better. The pair had met a few times, shared a few words and she had even asked him to accompany her on a walk once. He was a lowly squire, a kinsman of an illiterate knight who killed people for a job and hobby; she was a lady, who was handmaiden to Queen Margaery, she could not be expected to take notice of him.

"Because it's the right thing to do, because I too have to get out of that place, because it's what Tyrion would have wanted….." _It's what I want._ He held back what he wanted to say, and it seemed as if she sensed his hesitation. He looked away uncomfortably. "Let's make a move, shall we?" he coughed, and made to trot his horse forwards.

"Pod?"

He turned back around, as Lady Mira Forrester looked at him deeply and wistfully, her eyes carrying something pure and hopeful, something beautiful that made him feel joy inside like an echoing melody of a single drum. "I'm glad you're with me, Podrick."

Now his cheeks were surely turning red. He gave a small nod and motioned towards Duskendale, where they both gaited towards. A hidden smile of content spread across his face.

* * *

 **Author's Note: What did you think of that ending? Any feedback?  
**

 **On that note, I'm actually in the swing to continue writing my other stuff, mainly Lone Cats. Thank you so much for your patience.**


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